@japan_nobunaga B - Texas... 10% is my base unless they provide some exceptional service. I never tip unless there is full table service. Honestly tipping needs to end across the board.
Happy Revenge of the Fifth!
Pawn Star Wars - Boba Fett Tries to Pawn Han Solo in Carbonite | Part 1
Hope you enjoy the first part of my second rendition of Pawn Star Wars!
@BadQualityMemes I think it depends on the quality of the forecaster and the tools they have available. My local weather people are pretty much close most of the time. I also listen to @ryanhallyall on YouTube and he is very accurate.
Tomorrow Stargate fans rally to #SaveStargate -
TWEET STORM starting at 10:30 am PT/1:30 pm ET
BANNER FLIGHT over Amazon HQ from 11:00 am PT to 1:00 pm PT (2:00 pm ET to 4:00 pm ET)
Details below!
For the fourth time since my arrival, I entered the small eatery. Before I could utter a sound, the woman behind the counter spoke. “The usual?”
"The usual," Doris said, setting down sunny side up, wheat toast, hot tea. Exactly as I have ordered it every Thursday for two months.
THE USUAL. I had heard this phrase in your films and assumed it was reserved for detectives and cowboys. No one told me it could be conferred upon ME. No one tells you it arrives without ceremony, one Thursday you are a customer, the next you are KNOWN, and the eggs are moving before the door finishes its bell.
I want to be precise about the scale of what Doris does, because I have studied her like a strategist. She tracks the orders of perhaps two hundred regulars IN HER HEAD. No ledger. Carl: black coffee, short stack. The deputy: scrambled, bacon "almost burnt, not burnt, ALMOST." Me: the eggs of the rising sun, wheat, tea.
When Carl's doctor changed his orders, the short stack became oatmeal WITHOUT CARL ASKING, and Carl, a large man, went quiet in a way the whole counter pretended not to see. That is not food service, America. That is GUARDIANSHIP, conducted at six a.m., while calling everyone "hon."
In Japan, a tea master might study a single guest for years to anticipate one preference. It is high art. Doris does it at scale, before sunrise, in orthopedic shoes.
"The usual" is not an order. It is a TITLE. It means a place has watched you arrive enough mornings to bet eggs on your return. Citizenship, issued one plate at a time.
A man does not ask to be known. He arrives every Thursday until he is.
This morning, drunk on my new rank, I tested its borders. "Doris," I said. "Surprise me."
The counter went still. Carl turned fully around.
Doris narrowed her eyes. Studied me like a hand of cards. And ruled:
"...You'll have the usual. But I'm putting the jam on the side. You're not a surprise guy, hon."
JAM ON THE SIDE.
She was completely right, America. The jam was excellent. Carl nodded once, like a judge. I am not a surprise guy. I am a usual guy.
Fifty-four years and one waitress to learn it, and I have never been more at peace.
The jam is part of the usual now. She never asked. She knew. Of course she knew. She's Doris.
USA. A Mexican restaurant. We had not yet ordered anything, and the food was already arriving.
Chips. Salsa. Unrequested. Free.
I stopped the waiter. "We have not earned these."
"They just come with the table, man."
They come with the TABLE. In my land, hospitality is a debt. Every gift creates an obligation, weighed carefully, returned in the proper season with interest of feeling. Here, the gift arrives before you have even proven you can pay for dinner.
This is not an appetizer. This is a declaration: we trust you. Eat.
I ate with the gravity the moment deserved. And then — I must report this calmly — the basket emptied, and a new one appeared.
"Did we…?"
"Refill," the waiter said. "It's bottomless."
Bottomless. They have wells of salsa. The supply lines of this nation are beyond anything my ancestors imagined.
My friend warned me. "Don't fill up on chips, dude."
Too late. I had accepted three baskets. Honor demanded each one be finished — an unfinished gift is an insult. By the time my actual food arrived, I was a ruined man.
I was not hungry. I was not comfortable. I had been defeated by a courtesy.
Generosity that arrives before the request cannot be repaid. It can only be survived.
I know the rule now. I have made my peace with the basket. One basket. Two at the most.
Who am I deceiving. There is no number of baskets I would refuse. The trust of a nation is in that salsa, and I intend to honor all of it.
@realKrisCruz Huntsville. He is buried in the town cemetery. I always go pay my respects when I am there then grab a Republican burger at Mr Hamburger down the hill.